


I Hope You're Better Off Without Me (I Miss Your Eyes on Mine)

by wherehopelies



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff, Meet Again, beca has some teen angst to deal with idek, its soft and angst and fluff and just idek, minor drug drinking self destructive behavior mention, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 09:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: They'd dated and broke up in high school, moving on with the future, but when Emily and Beca see each other six years later, they have to grapple with the fact that maybe they never really moved on at all.





	I Hope You're Better Off Without Me (I Miss Your Eyes on Mine)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from 'Paquerrete (Without Me)' by With Confidence and Ellie Goulding's 'Sixteen'
> 
> here's a fic playlist if you like :)  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/129210011/playlist/4EGcrhewHoUGmlhTTPAw5q?si=wwzhIuDaR4qxcTFz3yi15A

Beca sees her across the sandy desert, a mirage against the hazy backdrop of heat. She has that festival look to her - flowers in her wavy hair, ripped cut-off jean shorts and a flowy white blouse. Her long legs tan and muscular as she jogs up to a group of her friends.

She looks the same as everyone there, but Beca could recognize that laugh in any crowd, even if it’s been six years since she’s heard it. The sound takes her back, long forgotten memories that overlap into a blur of emotion in her chest.

It’s been six years and that time and place feels so out of reach, but sometimes she’s still hit with the memories, when she’s in the shower or staring into the fridge looking for something to eat. They rise to the surface at the most unexpected times, for reasons Beca never understands but attributes to some kind of trigger she can’t place.

This isn’t a memory, though, not one of the times Beca pauses to sink into a scene she lived in that previous life. No, this is real, she’s really there, looking like she stepped out of a catalogue for Coachella fashion.

Beca sees her and it’s like the world stops, just for a moment, as she’s thrown back in time to when she was sixteen, smaller and skinnier and so in love that everything else felt unimportant.

//

They had ruled the world then, the two of them. Driving fast at night so all the headlights blurred to streaks. Stealing each others clothes, sleeping in each others shirts, heads on laps while they passed a bottle of the nicest vodka they could sneak from Emily’s mom’s liquor cabinet back and forth. Teeth against each other’s lips because they couldn’t stop smiling when they kissed. They’d had dreams and fantasies and plans.

She had loved Emily so completely, trusted her in an all-encompassing kind of way. Emily had been hope that things didn’t have to _suck_ , that fucked up kids like Beca with shitty families and bad habits and prickly personalities could make it.

It hadn’t been bliss, but Emily had been, and Beca still carries that feeling with her, even if it’s gone now because they’d had to grow up, had to move on and live without each other.

Emily had been the dawn, the sun after rain. She had coaxed Beca to openness, to _happiness_. But Emily hadn’t understood, hadn’t been able to get that you can’t just _fix_ people, that no amount of love and trust just made the bad shit disappear completely. So she had left, and Beca hadn’t blamed her because she had brought it on herself, but it had still hurt.

The pain of that never really faded for Beca. Maybe that’s why the memories still grip her like a shadow.

“I have to move on, Bec, I can’t keep up with you. The drinking and the smoking. The shoplifting, the drugs, the reckless driving. You’re going down a road that’s gonna end in trouble and it’s gonna hurt too much for both of us when you get there.”

Beca’s not that person anymore, but she hadn’t been able to let it go then. Not for Emily, not for her dad or her teachers. Not for anyone but herself, and that took time.

Time that Emily didn’t have.

~~

Emily has the perfect life, the perfect boyfriend.

She’s in love, the head over heels, marriage-material kind of in love. She’s convinced of this, has been for several months. She lives in a happy bubble that can’t be popped.

Emily doesn’t like to live in the past, but sometimes it follows her around like some kind of sad puppy she can’t let go. Emily’s memories of high school, of that crazy youthful life, are both her best and her worst.

She’s better now, in a better place and with better people. She has a boyfriend who’s responsible, who puts her first and always considers every option, every path, before making a decision. Emily loves him. She’s _in love_. Has been for some time now.

It’s not until she sees Beca Mitchell that she realizes she actually isn’t. It's not until she sees Beca Mitchell across a crowd of people that everything changes.

//

From the moment she met Beca when she was sixteen, Emily was infatuated with her. They were opposites, should have never worked. Emily came from a good home, followed the rules, lived life like the future would always be brighter.

Beca barely had a home, just a house that was empty more often than not, parents divorced and absent from her life. She was impulsive, dangerous, reckless. She didn’t care about what tomorrow would bring, just wanted to feel as good as the current moment would let her.

They had been paired together for a group project and Emily had been fascinated by Beca’s dark eyeliner, by her patched denim jacket, by her lopsided smirk. Beca was intoxicating, a dangerous rush of emotion that Emily fell into from the moment Beca set foot in Emily’s room, looking so out of place among the daisy-yellow walls it was almost funny.

They’d laid on the floor for three separate afternoons, working out of textbooks, creating a presentation. Three days and Emily hadn’t been able to stop staring at the strip of Beca’s bare back between her tank top and jeans, at her spiky jewelry, at her nubby fingernails, painted black and chewed down.

Emily was not impulsive, was not spontaneous, but something about Beca’s eyes on her made her brave. She’d leaned over their textbooks and lifted Beca’s chin and when they kissed, Emily didn’t think twice about it. She rolled Beca over on her back, crawled on top of her, her hair hanging in Beca’s face. She felt it deep in the core of who she was, a wanting her teen self hadn’t experienced before.

Beca tasted like root beer and she smelled like denim and her lips felt like electricity on Emily’s. Emily thought she would be hard and rough like her attitude, but she wasn’t. She was soft, her fingers crawling under Emily’s t-shirt to settle on her lower back, unassuming and gentle.

Emily hadn’t planned for anything but homework, but when she found herself kissing up Beca’s neck, their clothes haphazardly discarded next to their books, everything felt like it was going just the way it was supposed to. She had never had sex, had never even _thought_ she would have sex in high school, not with boys or girls or even someone she loved. Sex had hardly been on her radar at all outside of her Health class. But she kissed Beca Mitchell on her bedroom floor and became addicted, possessed and obsessed and drunk on the feeling of Beca’s warm body underneath her, Beca’s raspy laugh against her lips.

After, Emily didn’t have expectations. They didn’t know each other, and there was no way that she was Beca’s type. Beca would like someone cool, someone chill, not someone as straight-edged as Emily. It should’ve been awkward and horrible and mortifying, and lying on her stomach, her cheek and bare skin pressing in to the scratchy carpet, Emily waited for Beca to go, to make some excuse and abandon their group project and leave Emily alone.

Instead soft fingers twisted the ends of Emily’s hair, drifted down her bare back. Emily blinked sleepily, shivering at the press of Beca’s lips to her neck, Beca’s breath ghosting over her skin.

“What’s your favorite band?” Beca asked. She flopped on her back, head lolling to look at Emily. Their shoulders brushed and Emily stared, lost in the blue of Beca’s eyes.

Emily couldn’t think, just mumbled the first band that came to mind. “All Time Low, probably,” because ‘Dear Maria, Count Me In’ had been stuck in her head all week. Beca hummed happily, holding her phone above her head and scrolling through it. Then a song started playing, an All Time Low playlist from Beca’s music.

Maybe they weren’t Emily’s favorite band when she’d said it, but after Beca kissed her again, lazy and slow, ‘Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don’t)’ playing in the background, Emily never answered any other band to that question again.

//

They were inseparable after that, and Emily liked it that way.

She loved the way she looked in Beca’s grungy black hoodies, loved the smell of Beca in her hair after they’d spend the night together, so often because Emily’s mom didn’t know about Beca’s empty house or Emily’s unlocked window.

She loved Beca’s fingers loosely laced between hers when they drove around town, no destination in mind on a Saturday night. She loved Beca’s lips on hers, her tongue in Emily’s mouth and fingers sneaking up her shirt when Emily's mom was downstairs, a rush of danger that they could get caught any minute when they were supposed to be studying.

She loved Beca’s smile, soft and enamored when Emily would ramble on and on about nothing and everything. She loved the way Beca would go quiet, her ear pressed to Emily’s chest at midnight after she’d appear in Emily’s bedroom fuming after a fight with her dad.

Emily loved Beca. She loved Beca so much she couldn’t think straight sometimes. Beca made her feel so _much_ , so _intensely_ , that Emily could turn away from the bad and live in the space between reckless and brave where she’d followed Beca from day one.

She wasn’t blind to it. She saw Beca’s faults, her poor decisions. She just didn’t _care_. At least not at first, not when they were sixteen and in love, not when they were seventeen and Emily’s teachers pulled her aside, warning her of poor decisions before college and associating herself with the kind of people who would bring trouble for her.

It had been almost two years and Emily was in love, still couldn’t get enough of Beca, so she pushed it to the back of her mind where she kept her worries for Beca and for herself in a small, hidden corner.

Then college was looming and Beca was spiraling. Emily was applying to school and Beca was hiding drugs in her locker. Emily was studying for finals and Beca was truant. Emily was graduating and Beca wasn’t there, she was off God knows where, stealing cigarettes from gas stations and drinking at three in the afternoon for no reason.

Emily was in love, but suddenly she was scared and Beca wouldn’t listen.

They were getting older, and Beca couldn’t distract her with parked car makeout sessions or 2AM confessions of love, the kind of things that had made sixteen-year old Emily breathless and dizzy and crazy.

So Emily broke her own heart, and Beca’s, and them.

Sometimes it didn’t matter how much you loved someone. Sometimes things were just too far gone to bring back.

//

Emily had never felt for anyone again the way she had felt for Beca, that do-anything, can’t-breathe, heart-wrenching kind of love.

She had forgotten, at least consciously, that she even could feel that way. She had spent her later college years dating for fun. She had dated and kissed and slept with people she didn’t love at all, people she had loved as friends but not like _that_ , and people she fell in love with, a soft love that grows slow and easy and gentle.

Now she’s twenty-four and in love with a boy, one who makes Emily’s mom laugh and loves _Harry Potter_ and has planned a future with Emily that involves three kids and a German Shepherd named Kit. Emily loves him. She does.

Then she sees Beca Mitchell across a crowd, looking so different and yet so much the same, and Emily suddenly remembers exactly what love can be.

~~

Beca had always had a thing for Emily’s hair. She remembers that now, seeing Emily tuck it behind her ear. It hangs long and wavy down her back, daisies braided into the soft brown strands.

When Emily had first kissed her, the two of them sixteen and spread out on Emily’s bedroom floor, Beca’s first thought had not been about Emily’s lips or her fingers on Beca’s face. It had been about Emily’s hair.

She had worn it straight that day and as she leaned over Beca, crawled closer across the carpet, it had fallen in Beca’s face. It had tickled her cheeks and smelled like flowery shampoo and blocked the light from creeping into those brand-new feelings, shielding Beca from the world for just a moment.

After, Beca thought she should probably leave. This was a girl who was kind and responsible and good. She was not the type of person Beca usually fooled around with, the kind she could flake on and feel fine about it.

Emily had settled on her stomach, her cheek pressed to the carpet, and Beca felt some kind of tenderness bubble up in her. Shakily, she’d reached her fingers out and touched Emily’s hair. She had undressed Emily, been inside Emily, slipped her tongue between Emily’s lips, and somehow that was the gesture that Beca remembered most - her trembling fingers twisting the soft strands of Emily’s hair.

It was intimate, the hum in Emily’s throat when Beca scratched at her scalp, brushed through her hair. Beca cracked open at the expression on Emily’s face, this sleepy, trusting relaxation. Nobody had trusted Beca like that. They didn’t know each other, not really, but Beca felt seen by this girl. This straight-A getting, rule-following girl who had gripped Beca’s chin between her fingers and kissed her without warning.

Beca had been sixteen and she had fallen into a moment, into the unexpected, into the extraordinary. Emily had looked at her like she couldn’t breathe and Beca was the oxygen in the air. If she could just get closer, just briefly touch their lips together, just feel the steady press of Beca’s fingers on her back for a moment, then she might be okay again.

So Beca had moved Emily’s hair from her skin, twirled the silky strands between her fingers. She kissed the hidden spot on Emily’s neck, dragged her nose down the long expanse of her back. And she stayed.

She had, from that moment on, never wanted to leave Emily at all.

//

When Emily had left her, for college and better things, Beca had known there would be no one else. Loving Emily was not a temporary action but a permanent state of mind.

She had no false hopes or ideas about the future. Emily had ended things and Beca had chosen it, because for all of Emily’s worries, her concerns of who Beca would become if she didn’t change the course she was on, Beca had not been able to be the person Emily had asked for.

And although Emily was the one who had said the words, who had left Beca, Beca was the one who had broken them, and she didn’t stop loving Emily just because Emily had decided that it hurt too much to love Beca.

There had been others, after, but there was still always the echo of Emily imprinted on her DNA, even if Beca didn’t think about it like that, didn’t actively wish one day they’d get back together. That was not something she had considered an option.

Emily was gone, had vanished into the summer without a trace, and that was the end.

Beca had grown up after that, had been forced into college by her father, had straightened herself out. She’d made good friends, had a few boyfriends and girlfriends, gotten her dream job in Los Angeles.

She had moved on, unconsciously, as someone who was meant to be alone. It had nothing to do with anyone but herself -- (or did it, she now wonders) -- because it was just who she was as a person. But maybe she was like this because she belonged to someone else, someone from a different lifetime, one Beca only visited in the memories that left her reeling when she least expected them.

Maybe she was like this because no matter how many people Beca was with, nobody ever looked at her the way Emily had.

//

Emily smells the same and maybe that’s what hurts the most.

Her arms wrap around Beca and all Beca can think is, _she smells the same_. Like flowery shampoo. Suddenly Emily’s smell is no longer a faded memory but a reality. Their chests press together and Emily’s hair tickles Beca’s cheeks, a long-forgotten sensation carried home on the breeze.

“You look good,” Emily says when she pulls back, her eyes traversing over Beca’s body as if she’s expecting a scrawny sixteen year old to appear in front of her.

“So do you.” She really does. She looks happy. Beca had always hoped that for her, when she tried to imagine where Emily was, what she was doing, who she was with. She had not been able to imagine Emily as anything other than happy because it had hurt too much.

“How are you? What have you been up to?”

Beca sticks her hands in her pockets, shrugging. “Uh, you know. I’m a music producer in LA. That’s why I’m here,” Beca gestures to the nearest stage. “I produced these guys.”

“No way!” Emily gives her an impressed smile. “That’s… that’s really awesome, Beca.”

“Thanks.” Beca scratches at her neck awkwardly. “So, uh, what about you?”

“Oh,” Emily laughs. “Yeah, I’m actually doing my Master's at Berkeley. I have one more year left.”

Beca lets that wash over her for a second. “Master’s. At Berkeley. Wow. So you’re just, like, here for fun?”

“Yeah, with my, umm. With my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Beca’s gaze flickers to the group Emily was with, the tall blonde hipster boy in a polo. “That’s fun.”

“Yeah.”

They stare at each other until Beca can’t take it. “Cool, well, I should probably let you get back then, but it was good to see you. Sounds like you’re doing great.” She pauses, trying to hold the words back, but she can’t. “That’s what I always wanted for you.”

“Yeah,” Emily says, her voice small. She’s staring at Beca in that way she always used to, eyes deep and probing and _wanting_. Something twists inside Beca. “Me too.”

“See you, Em.” Beca turns to get out of there before she says something stupid that she’ll regret, but a hand curls around her bicep.

“Beca, wait.”

“Yeah?”

Emily gives her a soft smile. “I just… wanted to say that I’m glad you got out of that town and everything. It’s what you always wanted. So. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

Emily’s fingers fall away from her arm and Beca gives a last nod.

She walks away, even if she doesn’t want to, if only so Emily will stop looking at her like that.

~~

Beca smells different, and that’s maybe what hurts the most.

When Emily had walked up to her, said hi, reached her arms out for a hug, she had been expecting it to feel the same. She had anticipated the way Beca’s nose would press into her collarbones, the way she used to sink into Emily’s arms. She’d expected the smell of denim and those cherry Primetimes she used to nick from the 7-Eleven when the workers weren’t looking.

But Beca’s stiff when they hug, her palm tapping awkwardly on Emily’s back. She smells like sunscreen and wintergreen gum. Emily wonders if she’d given up smoking.

Beca looks different, too, in tight jeans and a faded blue v-neck. Her hair is darker and longer, and when Emily pulls back from the hug and Beca pushes her aviators to the top of her head, Emily notices her makeup is thinner and lighter.

This isn’t the Beca of her memories, the strung-out, dangerous girl paving a path to potential destruction. This is a new Beca altogether.

No, Emily thinks. Not completely new. Her laugh is the same, her fingers still gentle on Emily’s skin. And her eyes are the same, blue and beautiful and serious. Emily’s heart skips a beat when they meet hers, and she’s overcome with a forgotten-but-familiar desire to take Beca’s chin between her fingers and pull her closer. Like a habit she never truly broke.

Emily never really thought about Beca as grown. She was always that eternal angst-driven sixteen year old in Emily’s head, with her rolled-up flannel and patched jean jacket and spiky earrings. Part of her had always thought Beca deserved better than what Emily left her with, and she guesses Beca had grown from it, but for some reason Emily had immortalized that image of Beca in her head, and now that this changed, older Beca is in front of her, Emily suddenly feels dizzy.

Watching Beca walk away from her, the way she walked away from Beca all those years ago, the sudden thought pierces through her. _What if I just didn’t give her enough time?_

The thought leaves her aching, a deep rebruising of an old doubt.

_No_ , she reminds herself. _You gave her all the opportunities and she never listened. If she changed, it has nothing to do with you._

And yet…

“Hey. Who was that?”

An arm circles around her waist, the familiar action of someone Emily loves.

“Oh. Just, um... someone that I used to know.”

It’s the past tense of the statement, the uncertain truth, that leaves Emily questioning everything.

//

Emily always thinks of those months After Beca as some of the worst of her life. She had _hurt_ , been heartbroken, had not, under any circumstances, been fine with their breakup.

She’d cried for days straight, holed up in her room and secretly hoping Beca might crawl through her unlocked window the way she always did. Emily thought if she had, even if she didn’t say the things Emily had wanted to hear, she would’ve begged Beca to forgive her and forget everything she’d done anyway. But Beca never came, and Emily ached and cried, hated herself and doubted her decision over and over.

She did not heal quickly. For weeks she was nearly nonfunctioning. Without school to distract her, she had trudged through the days in a fog. She was depressed and anxious, unsure if she’d done the right thing - for herself or for Beca.

Eventually she came back to herself, as the summer passed her by and college came closer. She cried less, went shopping with her mom for her dorm stuff. She hid Beca’s profiles from her social media feeds and stopped feeling the urge to drive by Beca’s skeleton house, worried about what she’d find if she did.

Then the summer was ending and she packed up her stuff and moved on, to college and adulthood and the new life waiting for her. It was still hard, of course. There were so many things she wanted to share with Beca, so many times she’d wake up and expect Beca’s gentle fingers to be playing with her hair. There were so many times she still cried over Beca and yearned to reach out, but it hurt too much, so she never did.

As her first semester progressed and she settled into her new life, she thought of Beca less and less. By the time she finished her freshman year, she had not cried over Beca in several months.

It’s not until she’s back in her hotel room, after running into Beca at random, when his arms circle her waist from behind and she feels a stark _numbness_ at the action, that the tears come.

Emily buries her head in her pillow, listens to the snores of the boy she thought she loved, and for the first time in over five years, she cries over Beca Mitchell.

//

She lasts two weeks before she’s pulling up Beca’s Facebook profile, unhiding it from her timeline.

It doesn’t give her much satisfaction. Beca hasn’t posted anything on it in more than a year. Emily scrolls down anyway, through pictures Beca’s tagged in with a goofy boy, a beautiful girl she went to college with.

_Beca went to college???_

Emily remembers all Beca’s talk of moving away, starting a new life in LA or New York and disregarding college to spite her Professor father. Her dream of making music instead.

Emily tries to imagine Beca at college, rolling her eyes at her roommate, skipping class, joining a club. It’s a weird picture, but maybe not impossible. It’s a nice thought, Beca going through it and making it out on the other side better than how Emily left her.

She wishes she could have seen it, could know this new Beca, her friends, her life.

So even though Beca hasn’t posted in over a year, Emily messages her, her heart beating just a little too hard for something so trivial.

She doesn’t know if Beca will respond, but Emily hopes she does.

//

It doesn’t have to do with Beca. At least not directly. She’s not thinking of a future or some kind of relationship with anyone else, with Beca specifically. It’s just that seeing Beca made her remember exactly how much feeling she’s capable of, how much love her heart can hold.

When Emily looks at him, she doesn’t feel passion, or spontaneity, or excitement. She feels mellow and comfort and even happy, and she knows that’s a version of love, of course it is.

It’s just not the version of love she wants.

//

It hurts when she leaves him. She loves him and it hurts to break his heart.

But that’s all it is - a guilty kind of pain for hurting him. When it comes to her own heartbreak, she doesn’t feel anything at all.

~~

**Emily Junk:** Hey Beca… it was really good to see you the other day. Weird we both ended up here in California, huh? If I’m ever in LA, maybe we could meet up. I’d love to catch up with you. Hope you’re well! - Emily

It takes Beca a few days to respond. She pulls the message up so often that she has it memorized, but she doesn’t know what to say. Seeing Emily had left her feeling all sorts of emotions, but the main one was _aching_ and she doesn’t know what to do with that.

Then her boss tells her she has to go up to San Fran in a few weeks for a meeting with a new client. The coincidence feels just a little too much like _perfect timing_.

**Beca Mitchell:** I’m actually gonna be up your way in a few weeks from now. If you’re free, maybe we could grab coffee or dinner. It was good to see you too. Let me know.

//

Beca should have requested a neutral location. She doesn’t know why she agreed to let Emily cook her dinner.

All this time apart and suddenly she’s in Emily’s space, looking at the pictures on her wall, watching Emily flit around the kitchen, smelling Emily’s forgotten-but-familiar smell. It’s a lot, and it makes her feel quiet, like she needs time to process it all.

But Emily is… still Emily. Still forthcoming and bubbly and kind to Beca’s game of twenty questions. No her boyfriend doesn’t live with her, they broke up anyway. Yes she likes her studies, her degree is in music education. Her parents are good, her hamster passed away, she loves San Francisco but not long-term, the weather bothers her, she needs more sun in her life.

And on and on until Beca feels comfortable, until she’s returning Emily’s smile, answering Emily’s questions about college and work and life.

Beca had forgotten how easy it is to be around Emily. Or maybe she’s just surprised that even after all this time, that hasn’t changed. She thought it would be harder, that their past would hang heavy over them, making everything awkward and weighted, but there’s a lightness between them, playful and quick and _good_.

But they’re not sixteen anymore. They’re adults, and Beca’s wary of how attraction and lust and the right kind of flirtation can warp relationships into something they’re not.

They’d migrated to the living room floor with after-dinner coffee and Emily’s hand is holding hers between them, her laugh building a home in Beca’s chest, and Beca… she wants more, wants Emily’s hands somewhere else, wants Emily to always be there to laugh at her jokes. Emily’s looking at Beca like she can’t breathe and Beca’s the oxygen in the air.

It’s too much.

“Don’t,” Beca whispers when Emily’s eyes flick to her lips. “Don’t do it.”

A pleasant flush rises in Emily’s cheeks and she gives Beca a guilty smile. “I wasn’t gonna do anything.”

“Yes you were. We shouldn’t.”

“Oh.” Emily blinks slowly at her, her head tilting to the side the slightest amount. Her hand loosens its grip on Beca’s, but Beca tightens hers before she can take it away.

“I just mean…” Beca takes a deep breath. She can feel Emily’s pull across the floor and it’s hard not to sink into it. “Let’s… let’s go slow, okay? Let’s just get to know each other again.”

Emily bites her lip, glancing away before looking back at Beca. “Yeah,” she says at last. “That… that sounds good.”

Beca adjusts their hands so their fingers tangle. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes again, you know?”

“Yeah,” Emily murmurs, squeezing Beca’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Beca doesn’t know if she’s apologizing for right now or for when they were kids. Her answer is the same either way. She gives Emily a small smile. “It’s okay.”

“It’s hard to be together and not want to just fall back to how we were. Even this quick.” Emily tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and Beca follows the movement with her eyes. She’s so pretty Beca aches.

“Yeah,” she says. “A lot’s different, but… some things aren’t.”

“Yeah. Some things aren’t,” Emily agrees. She gives Beca a soft look, her eyes hopeful. “Can we try again? We can go slow. We can be friends even. I just…” She pauses, her expression turning pained. It makes Beca’s heart twist. “Nobody has ever made me feel like this but you. And I regret leaving. Like, big time. I know we were young, but…” She shrugs helplessly. “I shouldn’t have done that. You needed me and I just… gave up on you.”

Beca frowns, processing that. “That’s not true. Like, okay. At first, I thought that a little, I won’t pretend I didn’t. I was mad and hurt and bitter. But I made peace with it. You had a limit and I wouldn’t acknowledge that. I was being stupid. Like sure, we were young and maybe that’s some kind of excuse, but I think I just did all that dumb shit because I knew I wasn’t supposed to. It was self-destructive and stupid and I shouldn’t have put you through that.” Beca blinks, suddenly feeling the warm press of tears behind her eyes. “If you love someone you don’t do that. And I loved you, but I did. You were right to leave.”

Emily’s quiet for a long time. She brings Beca’s hand up to her cheek, just holding it there against her warm skin. It’s intimate and it makes Beca’s heart pound. She almost wishes Emily had just kissed her after all.

Finally, Emily sighs, dropping their hands back to her lap. “I guess we grew up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Beca agrees. “We’re not sixteen anymore.”

Beca leaves shortly after that. Emily hugs her at the door and Beca can’t help but lean into it, her nose at Emily’s collarbone and arms around her waist. She’d been right before. Some things are different, but the way Emily makes her feel safe and seen…

That isn’t different at all.

~~

The distance makes it easy to take it slow.

Emily hadn’t been sure at first that they’d be able to. Not when they were on her living room floor and Beca was making her laugh like old times. She hadn’t meant to end up there on the floor, like some kind of replay of their first time, but looking at Beca, she’d been overcome by that strong yearning again, to crawl over, to take Beca’s face between her hands and kiss her.

If Beca hadn’t said something she probably would’ve.

Emily’s glad she didn’t. Going slow is good. They don’t see each other, but they talk everyday. They text all the time and some days they call. They even FaceTime a few times.

They’re relearning each other, all the things that are different and all the things that are the same. They talk about Beca’s work and Emily’s thesis, their families, music. Sometimes they talk about the past, but sparingly and cautiously. It’s still a sensitive subject, for both of them, but it gets easier every time.

They’re older now, handling things a little better, but Emily loves the way Beca can make her feel sixteen again. The butterflies in her chest, smiling at her phone, blushing and giddy when Beca flirts with her.

She likes this new version of them.

It hasn’t been that long, they’re still going slow, but Emily has a feeling they’re going to be okay.

//

Beca comes to visit her again, this time overnight. Emily has a three-day weekend and had asked if they could see each other again. She knows they’re taking it slow, but she misses Beca’s eyes and her smell and she wants to just hang out.

It takes all of Emily’s willpower not to kiss her, and she thinks Beca knows it. She keeps laughing whenever Emily looks at her for too long, but _God_. She can’t help it. Beca’s beautiful and soft and her absentminded smirk drives Emily crazy.

Having her close is… intoxicating.

They lay in bed at night staring at each other, Beca on one pillow and Emily on the other, and Emily can’t help it. She lets her hand fall on Beca’s cheek, running a finger over her cheekbone. Her skin is so soft.

“It’s weird having you here,” she whispers into the half-darkness, backlit by the moon through Emily’s window.

Beca hums, her lips twitching upward under Emily’s gentle touch. “Good weird or bad weird?”

“Good,” Emily’s quick to say. “Really good. Just… weird. It’s different. It’s… harder than I thought, taking it slow. But it’s good.”

Beca laughs. “Thought you were fine with just being friends?”

Emily pouts. “I am. But you keep flirting with me.”

“Uh huh.” Beca’s toes push up against hers under the covers. “That’s because you’re easy to flirt with.”

“See!” Emily grumbles and Beca laughs again.

“I don’t wanna be just friends.”

Emily nearly stops breathing. She settles her thumb on the corner of Beca’s mouth. “You don’t?”

“No, dork.” Beca hesitates, visibly wrestling with saying something, and Emily waits. She waits so long it almost makes her crazy. Finally, Beca meets her eyes. “There was never anyone else.”

Emily blinks. Breathes into the silence. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I dated some people, but after you, I just… didn’t, like, think about anyone else. Nobody ever looked at me like you looked -- _look_ at me.” Beca glances away, exhaling quickly.

Emily stares, she can’t stop. She wonders if that’s what Beca means, but Emily doesn’t know how she looks at Beca. She just doesn’t want to stop looking at Beca. Beca is beautiful and looking at her makes Emily feel brave. It always has.

“I broke up with my boyfriend after I saw you at Coachella.” It’s out of Emily’s mouth before she has time to think. Beca’s eyes skitter back to her. “I didn’t plan to or anything. I loved him, you know? But when I saw you there, I just realized it was this… settling kind of love. And then when I saw you again, when you came here the first time, I…” She shivers, remembering. “He didn’t make me feel in almost a year what you made me feel in an hour.” Beca’s still looking at her, her eyes serious and probing. Emily blushes, glancing away. “It’s crazy, I know.”

“No,” Beca murmurs. “It’s not. It’s just…” She shrugs, at a loss for words.

They stare at each other, Emily’s hand still on Beca’s cheek, Beca’s skin warm under hers. She wants to kiss Beca _so_ bad, but she doesn’t. She exhales, grappling with her self-control. “We’re going slow,” she reminds them both.

Beca’s eyes flutter shut, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. We’re going slow.”

She grabs Emily’s hand and pulls it off her cheek. Keeping hold of it, she rolls over so they’re back to front. Then she drapes Emily’s arm over her middle.

Emily snuggles in, pulling Beca closer to her chest. She nuzzles her nose in Beca’s hair and tries to breathe deeply, calming her racing heart. Beca laces their fingers together over her chest.

“Goodnight, Em.”

“Goodnight, Beca.”

And Emily can’t help it. She places a tiny kiss behind Beca’s ear. Beca hums contentedly, tangling their legs together, and goes quiet.

Emily doesn’t fall asleep right away, just marvels in the easy rightness of holding Beca close again after all this time.

//

When they talk about the past, about who they used to be, it’s usually apologetic. They both have regrets, both wish they had done things differently. They can’t change what happened now, but they both still feel the sting sometimes, a heartfelt pang that has them apologizing.

Sometimes, though, the memories are painless. Sometimes Beca will say something and Emily will find herself smiling into the phone, the words “remember when…” leaving her mouth before they recount some story back and forth. Sometimes only one of them remembers it, sometimes they both do.

It’s usually Emily who brings up the past, nostalgic and sentimental, but once in awhile it’s Beca, and when it is, Emily’s always left a little breathless, wishing Beca was with her, but also glad she isn’t, because they’re still going slow and it always makes her feel a little too intense when they take a trip down memory lane.

Those are the times she wants to kiss Beca most. All these memories swirl in her head, remembered feelings pound in her chest, but the one thing she can’t place is how Beca’s lips felt against hers. Sometimes the ache to know Beca like that again reverberates so deep in her stomach she feels nauseous.

But Emily is patient. Kissing Beca again feels like an inevitability, so no matter how much she wants that, she waits.

~~

Emily comes down to LA for a week during her winter break. Beca can’t really take off work, but there’s something perfect about coming home after dealing with shitty people all day to see Emily lounging around in sweats, some medical drama on Netflix distracting her from her thesis.

They spend the weekend chilling in Beca’s apartment. Emily catches up on her reading and Beca naps or works on her laptop. They cuddle and flirt and she steals Emily’s shirts because she likes the way Emily looks at her when she’s wearing them, teeth biting over her bottom lip as she stares at Beca a little too long to be innocent.

The easy quiet between them makes Beca think fondly of old times. Of high school and weekends spent avoiding parents and doing nothing. Emily reads her books, turning still and thoughtful. Beca settles her head in Emily’s lap and is transported back to some of her most peaceful memories and happy places.

She holds onto that feeling until it’s bursting from her.

“Hey.”

Emily hums, absorbed in her book, her fingers absentmindedly trailing over Beca’s hairline. “Hm?”

“Remember senior year when we had to read _Catcher in the Rye_.”

Emily lowers her book to look at her, her thumb pressed between the pages to mark her spot. “Sure. What about it?”

“I was just thinking… I loved those few weeks because every day after school we’d sit like this and you’d read it out loud to me because you said if you didn’t then I wouldn’t read the book at all.”

Emily laughs, the back of her hand pressing lightly to Beca’s cheek. “That’s because you wouldn’t have. You failed almost every lit quiz we had.”

“Yeah. I hate reading.”

“How on Earth did you graduate from college?”

Beca bites back a grin. “Oh. Lowkey I totally cheated sometimes.”

Emily tssks. “Beca.”

“Well it’s boring!”

“Some things literally never change.”

“Yeah.” Beca rolls on her back so she can look up at Emily. “I probably wouldn’t have even graduated high school if you hadn’t forced me to do homework and shit.”

Emily raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “You mean if I hadn't let you copy off me.”

Beca grunts. “Semantics.”

“Right.” Emily playfully rolls her eyes, taking her hand off Beca’s face to run it through her own hair. She still has the book in her other hand, thumb pressed between the pages, eyes crinkling down at Beca. It’s an image Beca could have copy-pasted from the past, like Emily materialized straight out of one of Beca’s fondest memories.

She sits up suddenly, her heart twisting because she just realized what’s supposed to happen next - Emily leaning down, holding Beca still by her chin, bringing their lips together.

Present day Emily just looks at her, confused. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Beca says. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Beca just doesn’t want to wait anymore.

She shifts, grabbing Emily's book from her hand and laying it open and face-down on the nightstand.

“Wait, don't fold --”

“Fold down the corner, yeah I know. You always used to hate that.”

“I… Yeah, I did.” Emily gives Beca a surprised look when Beca crawls in her lap, her knees on either side of Emily's thighs. She bites her lip when Beca brings her hands up to settle on her chest. “Oh,” she says in a small voice as she realizes what Beca wants. Her eyes move over Beca's face and her hands land on Beca's back. “Are… are you sure?”

Beca nods, twisting the ends of Emily's hair around her fingers. “Yeah,” she says, quiet but certain.

Emily pauses, just looking at her. The deep brown of her eyes, her intense stare, the way her gaze flicks to Beca's lips… it makes Beca hot all over.

Then she smiles, warm and perfect. She reaches up, her fingers feather-light on Beca's cheek. Her thumb ghosts over Beca's cheekbone, her lips, her jaw. Finally she loosely grips Beca under the chin and nudges her closer. The familiarity in it makes a thousand butterflies take flight in Beca's chest. Her breath catches as their noses brush, and finally, Emily guides their lips together, so slowly Beca feels like fainting.

Beca had forgotten just what it feels like to have Emily kiss her. The warmth in her cheeks, the softness of her lips. The way she makes Beca feel important and visible and vulnerable. Beca forgot that every time Emily kissed her, it felt like Emily was trying to memorize her.

You never think you’re going to get a second first kiss with someone, but they do.

Kissing Emily again makes Beca remember their first kiss with a special kind of ache in her chest. When Beca thinks back on it, she thinks of Emily’s hair in her face, Emily’s desperate yearning flowing over Beca, contagious and addicting. They didn’t stop back then, had been caught up in some kind of teenage dream, explorative and curious and intense.

Their second first kiss is different. Softer somehow. Happier. Maybe back then they’d been driven by hormones and subconscious ideas about love and sex and lust. Now, Beca can taste a sweetness on Emily’s lips, a gentle restraint, a certainty that they don’t have to go so quick, that they have time.

Emily exhales through her nose, her hand falling from Beca’s chin to hug around her waist. She tugs Beca further up on her lap, closer and closer until they’re pressed flush together. Beca slides her hands around the back of Emily’s neck, loving the soft tangle of hair against her skin, the heat in her stomach.

 She pulls back an inch, their noses brushing. Emily’s eyes flutter open. Beca feels their warmth in every part of her body. She melts under their stare, a smile pulling at her lips when Emily doesn’t say anything, just looks at Beca full of wonder.

Beca feels it again, the happy rush that nobody has ever look at her like that. Nobody but Emily.

Emily lets out a small laugh, infectious and cute. She lifts Beca slightly and rolls them over, laying Beca on her back and settling on top of her. Her hair falls around Beca, shielding these new-old feelings from the world outside for just a moment.

Yes, she thinks, as Emily brings their lips together again, slow and without expectation.

They have all the time in the world.

~~

Emily believes life is circular, that everything comes back around. Give a little, take a little. She believes in balance, in cycles, that everything happens for a reason.

She believes in natural poetry, like their second first kiss wasn’t a parallel of their first, but instead a mirror - not Emily crawling across the floor to lean over Beca, but Beca in her lap, her hair in Emily’s face. Emily’s hands gentle on her back. Beca’s eyes, patient, asking Emily to kiss her after all this time.

Emily believes they had to grow apart to grow up, that they met again to love again. She believes Beca never stopped loving her, because she feels it in the way Beca remembers the small details from their teen years, like what Emily orders from McDonalds and that dog-eared books make her sad. She can feel it in the way Beca takes her seriously, always listening with purpose, her eyes thoughtful.

She can feel it in the way Beca kisses her.

The innocence in it overwhelms her. She had forgotten how soft Beca is, how gentle her lips feel. She’d forgotten the angle she tilts her head, how warm Beca gets.

She’d forgotten the amount of emotion Beca can express in a kiss, like she’d been keeping every unsaid feeling on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for Emily to kiss her.

Emily kisses her, and she remembers.

//

Emily spends the afternoon learning. Not from her books, but from Beca, from herself.

She relearns. She relearns how they fit together, how they shape around each other. She relearns how Beca can make her shiver, her breath warm against Emily’s skin. She relearns what it means to be in this kind of love -- the can’t-breathe, heart-wrenching, do-anything kind of love.

They’re still going slow, so slow it aches, but Emily revels in the purposeful way Beca kisses her, trying not to let the moment run away from them. She’s caught up in the way Beca’s fingers slide under her shirt and just rest there, content to feel the heat of Emily’s skin against her own and nothing more.

Emily had already felt _happy_ , spending the day being close, but this is something else, a growing giddiness in her chest that makes her breathless.

She thinks teen-Emily had been greedy, hadn’t known a good thing when she’d had it. Sixteen year-old Emily had found bravery in Beca’s eyes and had taken it and run straight to the finish line.

How crazy, she thinks now, as they lay about in Beca’s bed, exchanging lazy kisses until the afternoon daylight turns to dusk.

Teenage Emily had asked for everything and immediately received it. She hadn’t had time to fully appreciate the anticipation, to bask in this slow-type of kissing. Back then, they had always been fueled by desire and curiosity and eventually love, and they’d let it overtake them.

Now, Emily thinks she’d be content to just stay in bed and relearn what it’s like to kiss Beca forever.

//

Emily hadn’t heard from Beca all afternoon.

Usually they texted back and forth constantly. Emily had been scolded at dinner a hundred times for the click-click-clicking her parents could hear from her hidden phone under the tabletop.

She wasn’t worried, exactly. Beca flaked out on her sometimes, a bad habit Emily didn’t feel entitled to call her out on. She had learned to live with it so far, to trap the disappointment she felt at Beca’s absences in some forgotten part of her mind. Beca had her reasons, even if she didn’t always share them.

She had already plugged her phone into her charger and changed into her pajamas when her phone finally buzzed with a text. She snatched it off her night-stand.

**Beca:** sorry i’ve been MIA my dad went totally nuts on me. he just gave my phone back before going off to fucking sheilas

Emily paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard on her phone.

**Emily:** It’s okay. How are you babe? Are you by yourself? Come over, I’ll leave the window open. If you want to.

**Beca:** ya im ok just pissed off. is it ok if i come in a bit?

**Emily:** Yeah. I’ll distract you ;)

**Beca:** lol. be right there

By the time she heard the telltale creaking of Beca on the roof, she was already in bed. She lifted her head as Beca pushed through the window and landed on the carpet with well-practiced agility. She huffed, kicking off her Chucks and throwing her jacket over Emily’s desk chair.

“Hey,” Emily said quietly. She couldn’t gauge Beca’s face in the darkness.

Beca grunted, slouching closer. Emily scooted over and Beca climbed into bed next to her. She rolled into Emily’s arms, her nose in Emily’s neck.

Emily pouted. “I’m sorry he sucks.”

“It’s whatever. He’s just annoying. He was getting all on my ass about college and shit and he doesn’t even care about what I want. He just has the perfect image of who I’m supposed to be in his head and I’m just so not even close to that person. It’s like… sorry that you hate me and I’m not the daughter you want, but get over it, dude.”

Emily inhaled quietly, eyebrows furrowing. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Beca say so much on the subject of her family at one time before. She hesitated, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“He just isn’t looking for the good stuff. If he was, he’d see you’re great.” She gave Beca’s body a squeeze. “I do.”

Beca exhaled, slumping more into Emily. She wiggled lower so her head was on Emily’s chest, her arms around Emily’s waist. Emily had never seen Beca cry, and she didn’t think Beca was crying then, but it kind of felt like she was holding it back.

Emily let her fingers trail under Beca’s baggy shirt and rubbed her back, sad and thoughtful.

Beca often came rolling into Emily’s room late at night, electric like a storm cloud. She’d crawl into bed and press their lips together, gentle but firm, like she needed to feel Emily as close as possible right that second.

Emily always felt extra close to Beca at those times. Beca didn’t say much, but the way she looked at Emily those nights spoke volumes. Emily wished she could take away Beca’s pain and she always tried to touch Beca extra soft, to show her love in ways Beca could understand, even if it was without words.

But Beca was different that night. Softer somehow. Sadder. She wasn’t a storm cloud, but a gray sky, melancholic and calm. Emily could feel her breathing growing steadier the longer she pressed her ear to Emily’s chest until Emily had thought, with a growing surprise, that Beca had fallen asleep.

Then Beca shifted, letting out a sigh. “I love you, Em.”

Emily’s world stopped, her body stilling. “I... love you, too.”

There was a feeling growing in her chest, a heart-wrenching kind of euphoria. She squeezed Beca to her as tight as possible.

“Goodnight,” Beca murmured, already sounding half-asleep.

Emily kissed the top of her head, holding her lips there and closing her eyes. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

Her arm had fallen asleep and she suddenly wasn’t tired, Beca’s words like a shot of caffeine to her system. Still, she didn’t move, just stayed in that position with her lips resting against Beca’s temple.

She found she couldn’t bring herself to move at all until Beca fell asleep.

//

“What are you thinking about?”

Emily blinks the distance from her eyes. She squeezes Beca tighter to her, loving the feeling of Beca’s head on her chest. “Oh. I was just remembering something.” Beca shifts, turning to look up at Emily curiously. Emily laughs self-consciously. “I was thinking about one night when you came in through my window.”

“Oh.” Beca huffs out a laugh. “That was like every other night. God. How did we get away with that? And we were like… having sex all the time. Your mom was such a heavy sleeper.”

Emily chuckles. “Yeah, well. We weren’t that loud. Except when you tripped on the desk.”

“I did that like, once.”

“Yeah. A week.”

“Shut up.”

Emily bites back her smile. “No, I was thinking about…” She hesitates. She doesn’t want to move too fast, to cross into heavier territory, but where is the line?

“What?” Beca smiles slightly, curious.

“It was the first time that you said you loved me. That we said it to each other. You were laying on me just like this.”

“Oh.” Beca pauses, then brings her fingers up to tangle in Emily’s hair. A nervous habit, Emily thinks. “I remember it.”

Emily looks at Beca cautiously. “You do?”

“Yeah. I was mad that night. I don’t remember why I guess, but I remember being so angry. I remember thinking when I climbed your tree that I had to cool it because I had to be quiet, but I couldn’t. Then I saw you all sleepy in bed and I just…” Beca trails off, her eyes glazing over. “I was always so angry back then, but being around you made me feel calm.”

Emily scrunches her nose. “You never told me that.”

“Yeah, well.” Beca rolls her eyes. “I didn’t say a lot of things back then. I just went off on my own and did stupid shit.”

Emily hums. “I remember being surprised because... I dunno. When you came over and were mad, we always like, fooled around and stuff. You never talked about things. But that time you did a little bit. And then you cuddled into me just like this and said you loved me and I said it back. And before that I hadn’t thought about if you loved me or not. I guess I just assumed you weren’t with me to be in love.”

Beca stares at her, her eyebrows furrowing. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Emily shrugs. “I mean, obviously after that, I knew you loved me. But before then, I just thought... Well, I dunno what I thought. I mean, you were my first time, but you were so cool and experienced. I thought you just wanted to hang out. And maybe copy my homework,” she teases.

“I mean, the homework thing was a nice bonus.” Emily flicks Beca in the forehead and Beca laughs. “Ow, hey! No, like. I was like, obsessed with you dude. Like from the first time you kissed me. Being around you was so… good. Good for _me_.” That makes Emily sad. Guilt grips her chest, but Beca shakes her head. “No, stop, don’t look like that. Okay, actually you know what?”

She scooches up so they’re nose to nose and grabs Emily by the cheek. “Let’s stop apologizing to each other for what we did back then. We can’t change it. I was a shit. You left. We both have… regrets. But let’s just, like, stop. We’re here now. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Emily exhales heavily, meeting Beca’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Beca repeats. “So let’s just... I forgive you, okay? Completely.”

“I forgive you, too.” Emily settles her hand on top of Beca’s over her cheek. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Beca’s gaze flits between her eyes. “Okay. Me too. So let’s just not do that thing anymore, where we say something about back then and feel bad. Let’s just go forward.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Emily nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.” Beca hesitates another second, then presses her lips to Emily’s, short and sweet. “I love you. I always have. Maybe it, like, faded into the background, became something different for awhile, but I don’t think I ever really stopped.” Beca twists her lips. “I don’t think I can.”

Emily’s lips twitch. “I really kinda thought you’d grown out of your emo phase, but maybe you haven’t.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “It’s forever, dude.”

Emily laughs, hugging Beca tighter. “I love you, too.”

“Not the settling kind, I hope,” Beca teases.

“No.” Emily presses their foreheads together. “Like we’re sixteen again. But better.”

She can feel Beca’s smile against her lips. “Better how?”

“Better because we can FaceTime when we’re apart and don’t have to resort to sexting over IM at one in the morning when our parents were sleeping.”

“Oh my God,” Beca laughs. “I forgot we did that.”

“I didn’t. My mom almost caught me once and it was the scariest moment of my life.”

Beca rolls on her back and presses her hand to her face, grinning. “God… I still can’t believe you even did that in the first place.”

Emily chuckles. “What do you mean? I was crazy about you. I did a lot of things I never thought I would do before I met you.”

“Yeah.” Beca looks at her fondly. “I always thought it was kinda hot. Everyone thought you were such a goody two-shoes, but then you’d steal us a bottle of something from your mom’s liquor cabinet and we’d get tipsy and you’d cover my mouth while you touched me when she was right next door.”

Emily smiles, loving the look on Beca’s face. “You made me brave. It was like, this fun game. Like… how far can I go without getting caught? And I liked how you’d always look at me when I did something crazy. Like you couldn’t believe it. Like I was the most wonderful, surprising person you’d ever seen.”

“That’s because you are.” Beca pauses, blushing, and Emily laughs.

“You mean were?”

Beca scrunches her nose. “That too.”

“Wow.” She gives Beca a teasing smile. “You really love me, huh?”

“Yeah.” Beca rolls her eyes, her face going soft. “I really do.”

Emily leans forward and kisses Beca’s jaw, her heart thumping happily. “I really love you, too.”

~~

When they’re apart and Beca misses Emily too much, she gets restless.

It’s a feeling that’s followed her from her teen years, that uncomfortable twitch in her body that makes her feel a little too close to self-destructive. She hadn’t always been able to get rid of it back then, had let it rule her actions and guide her decisions.

Sometimes when Emily is busy, when they haven’t talked because Beca’s with clients and Emily’s in the library researching or she’s teaching a class, that restlessness swims to the surface, that old _get-out-of-here_ feeling staticing in her limbs.

Beca can manage it now, but it makes her think of times when she couldn’t, or maybe just didn’t, because she liked the destruction, the chaos, the potential to blow her own life to pieces.

The memories of those times are accompanied by a long-lasting ache that makes her want to make it up to Emily, even now, even if they promised each other they wouldn’t apologize for the past anymore.

She thinks of all the times the restlessness swirled inside her, a tornado she had to let out because it was too much mess inside her to handle alone. She remembers times she skipped class, times she turned off her phone and went driving without telling anyone, times she flaked on hangouts and plans and dates with Emily.

She had always thought she could outrun it, if she’d just pushed a little further, did something a little crazier.

She remembers times she’d shown up in Emily’s room at 3AM, drunk or high, after going radio silent for two days. How Emily would sit up, her arms hugging around her knees as Beca stumbled into bed next to her, apologies flowing from her lips because she hadn’t meant to hurt Emily, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. Emily would stare at her for a long moment, before she sighed and pulled Beca to her chest.

“Why do you do this?” Beca remembers her asking once. “Why? You’re going to hurt yourself like this and I’m scared for you. Just come talk to me. I don’t understand it.”

Beca hadn’t had an answer. Emily thought the mess could just vanish, that love could fix everything, but Beca had seen first-hand that love wasn’t a cure but a bandaid. It could help you heal, but it wasn’t a miracle worker. It was a crutch to get you through.

Sometimes Beca looks back on that time, at some of the things she did, with fear in her heart. She doesn’t know how she made it this far, how she made it out on the other side in one piece. Then she breathes, remembering the times she _did_ stop herself. The times she texted Emily instead of her dealer. The times she went to Emily’s house instead of that college guy’s, the one who always made her feel a little sleezy but was the first one to show her how to steal shit without getting caught.

The time Emily went to visit her grandma for a week and Beca had painstakingly slowly read all of _The Hunger Games_ books, even if she hated reading, just so she wouldn’t do something to make Emily disappointed in her, just so she could ignore the restlessness until Emily came home.

When she misses Emily, those memories flow through her like a river, fast and dangerous, and she has to close her eyes and just breathe for a long while.

Who would she have been without Emily to make her think twice before she did something? Who would she have been if she hadn’t had Emily to come back to, if she hadn’t had anyone to stay okay for?

Would she have made it at all? Would she actually _have_ blown her life to pieces, just because she could?

She can’t be sure, but when she thinks back on it, she thinks it’s a miracle Emily stayed as long as she did in the first place.

//

Beca drives up to Berkeley whenever she gets a chance.

Emily is busier now as her semester crests toward the end. Her thesis defense is in just a few weeks, and she’s hurrying to finish, to add last minute touches and edits. Beca’s proud of her, and supportive, but she selfishly wishes time would just stop. It reminds her of when she found out Emily was going away for college the first time and Beca had spiralled out, unable to get rid of her anxiety in ways that were healthy and good. She’d missed Emily’s honors ceremony and graduation and the last days of school, unable to face all that change at once.

Emily hasn’t told her what she’ll do once she graduates, and Beca hasn’t brought it up, because she doesn’t want that restlessness to grip her in some horrible way if Emily says she’s going to go back to their hometown. She just got Emily back after all this time, and she knows they’d make it because she’s different now, in-control and more mature, but she doesn’t want that restlessness to live inside her permanently.

She hates how it makes her feel, angsty and emotional, like she’s sixteen again and there’s a tornado of mess inside her. She can deal, has outlets to let it go, but she still doesn’t like it.

She said they should stop apologizing for what they did in the past, but that doesn’t mean Beca stops being afraid of repeating it.

//

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Your mom hates me.”

Emily laughs, pulling Beca more solidly on her lap. “No she doesn’t.”

“How do you know? Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because,” Emily raises an eyebrow. “She trusts me. I’m an adult and am capable of making my own decisions without her permission. When I told her we were dating, she said she was happy for us.”

Beca grunts in disbelief. “She never trusted me. And I like, broke your heart, dude. Her only daughter, her _baby_. Her most prized thing in this _whole world_. That’s how she used to talk about you. Like you were her reason for existing.”

“She still talks about me like that.” Emily gives her a knowing smile and Beca groans. “If you’re so worried then why don’t you give her a reason to see you differently. Show her that you’ve grown up. Make her love you. Just like, do what you did to me and she will.”

Beca stares, her lips twitching. “You want me to make out with your mom?”

“Ew, stop,” Emily giggles. “Why would you even say that?”

“To make you laugh.” Emily scrunches her nose cutely and it makes Beca melt. She sighs, curling her hands behind Emily’s neck and in her hair. “You really think it’s gonna be okay?”

“Mhmm.” Emily presses a soft kiss to Beca’s jaw, her neck. Beca tilts her head as Emily kisses her way toward her shoulder. “Anyway, I said you don’t have to sit by her. You don’t even have to come.”

Beca huffs. “I’m coming.”

“It’s gonna be boring, it’s like my third graduation and honestly I’m getting sick of them.”

Beca’s stomach twists. “Well I haven’t seen any of them, not even when I was supposed to be in one, so. I’m not missing it. Even if I have to suffer your mom’s judgment. I’m coming.”

“There’s no judgment.” Beca pulls back, giving her a look and Emily pouts. “I’m serious!”

“She once said _to my face_ that I should drop out of school to groupie for My Chemical Romance.”

“That was a compliment! She thought you dressed cool. And she’s a firm believer that school isn’t for everyone.”

Beca doesn’t buy it, but she lets it go when Emily nuzzles her nose in her hair. “Kay. Whatever.”

“Don’t be grumpy.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

Beca grunts. “I’m not. I’m just…” _Freaking out_ , she tries to say. But can’t. The words get stuck in her throat.

Emily leans back, putting some distance between their faces. Beca tightens her grip on Emily’s neck so she doesn’t go too far, but she can’t look Emily in the eyes because she knows how Emily’s looking at her, in that way she always does that makes Beca overwhelmed, and she can’t face it.

“What’s wrong?” Emily brings her fingers up to Beca’s cheek, nudging her back.

Beca shrugs. “Nothing. I’m…” The restless feeling is swirling in her chest, a whirlpool of anxiety. She closes her eyes, feeling the sudden sting of tears. _Stop it. Stop it. It’s fine._

“Beca, what?” Emily’s palms settle on her cheeks, her thumbs rubbing comfortingly across Beca’s skin. “Look at me,” she says, her voice soft but earnest.

“I’m freaking out,” Beca croaks out at last. She opens her eyes, meeting Emily’s gaze head-on. It makes her heart jump. She can’t breathe and she inhales sharply, struggling to get air into her lungs.

Emily sits up straighter, her hands gripping Beca more solidly by the cheeks. “About my mom?”

Beca shakes her head. “No. It just feels like…” She gestures toward her chest abstractly with one hand. She wishes Emily could read her mind. “Like… like before.” She gasps in another breath, her heart going too quick. Her other hand is still around Emily’s neck and she grips the back of Emily’s t-shirt, balling it in her fist.

“Okay. Just… focus on me, okay?” Beca nods, her eyes holding onto Emily’s. Emily pouts. “What part? Please talk to me.”

“Like... when we were graduating?”

“Okay. Yeah.” Emily nods her head. “That makes sense.”

Beca inhales. Exhales. Tightens her grip on Emily’s shirt. “You were leaving.”

“Oh.” Emily frowns, guilt flashing across her face.

“No,” Beca’s quick to say. “Not that. I mean, _everyone_ was leaving. But you were going away… and I wasn’t. And I…” She claws at her chest again, like that’s some kind of explanation for this feeling she can’t describe. “I didn’t know what to do so I just… And then that made you… _then_ you left. And this time, I don’t want to, like…” Beca she looks up at the ceiling in frustration. She’s not making any sense.

“Oh,” Emily repeats, recognition in her voice. Beca has no idea how. “Okay, just.” She shifts on the bed and Beca feels her hands leave her cheeks. They land on her back, holding her steady in Emily’s lap. “Look at me,” Emily says again.

Beca lowers her head to look at Emily, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the intensity in Emily’s eyes.

“We’re not doing that again,” Emily says, her voice steady and certain. “I promise.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just do.” She tilts her head so they’re at the same eye-level. “Because there’s no pressure. And because you’re telling me right now that you’re having some kind of feelings about this instead of just… I dunno. Whatever it is you used to do when you’d disappear for a bit.” Emily gives her a sad smile. “That’s all I ever wanted. For you to talk to me when you’re like this instead of going off on your own.”

Beca frowns. “It feels like crap.”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees. “It’s hard. Feelings are hard.”

“I’m not gonna be like I was.”

“I know.”

Beca loosens her fingers, smoothing out Emily’s shirt. She breathes. “I still feel… anxious? About it.”

“That’s okay.” Emily’s hands slide under Beca’s tank top to rub her back. “Do you know why? If you don’t that’s okay, too.”

“I dunno.” Beca sighs, feeling the tension start to leave her shoulders. She slumps in Emily’s arms a little. “I still get that feeling sometimes. The one that used to make me need to just like, fuck off for awhile. The one that made me do things that made you want to break it off.”

Emily hums softly. “What’s it feel like?”

“Like I need to do something crazy. It’s like this… like I feel restless.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should take up running or something.”

“No.” Beca almost laughs. “It’s like, in my brain. I dunno. Music helps. Being with you helps. Talking like this maybe helps.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. “We’ve never talked like this. That was the problem.”

“I know, but. It helped right now, I mean.”

“Hmm.” Emily tugs Beca closer so they’re nose to nose. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? Not figuratively and not literally. I’m staying here in Cali.”

“You are?”

Emily nods and their noses brush. “Yeah. I’m moving actually. To LA. I wanted to wait and tell you when I found out for sure, but I’ve been applying to a bunch of jobs there. I mean, it’s still early and I haven’t heard back yet, but that’s the plan.”

Beca’s heart skips a beat. “You’re coming to LA.”

“Yeah.” She can feel Emily’s smile on her lips. “I don’t wanna be six hours apart. And honestly? I’m sick of the weather here. It’s too gloomy. It’s just fog all the time.”

Beca doesn’t hear anything about the weather. “You’re coming to LA,” she says again. She blinks. Feels a warmth in her chest.

“I’m coming to LA.”

A shocked laugh bubbles up Beca’s throat. She brings their lips together, hoping Emily can feel her happiness. She thinks Emily can because she smiles and her teeth bump Beca’s lips. Love bursts in Beca’s chest, an explosion of feeling that washes over her. She pulls Emily closer, kisses her deeper, loves the way Emily’s breath gets caught between them when Beca’s tongue slips into her mouth. It makes Beca ache all over with love and wanting.

She slides her hands down Emily’s shoulders, her back, under her shirt. Tucks her fingers into the waistband of Emily’s shorts. Emily squirms underneath her, shifting on the bed. She disconnects their lips and Beca squeaks as she’s lifted a little bit into the air and flipped over, her back bouncing slightly as she hits the mattress.

Then Emily’s crawling on top of her, her hair falling in Beca’s face, her nose brushing Beca’s cheek.

“I love you,” Emily says, smiling down at Beca, her eyes crinkly. “You can talk to me about whatever, okay?”

Beca nods, her hands finding purchase on Emily’s bare stomach under her shirt. “I love you, too.” She trails her fingers over Emily’s abs, scratching slightly. “Can I tell you something, then?”

Emily beams. “Yeah of course. Anything.”

Beca smirks. “I like, want you so bad right now.”

“Oh.” Emily blushes, glancing away. When she looks back, she gives Beca an enamored smile. “Like junior prom?”

“Yeah,” Beca laughs. “Just like that.” She moves to pull Emily closer again, then stops suddenly, grabbing for her phone on the nightstand. Emily’s still hovering above her and she pushes her hair back so it’s not in Beca’s way.

She opens up Spotify and clicks on her _Emily_ playlist. Emily chuckles.

“Wow, a whole playlist just for me, huh?”

“Wait wait wait.” She has to hold back her smile, knowing she’s about to get a reaction from this. She plays the song and sets her phone down, her arms circling back around Emily’s neck.

Emily tilts her head to the side, listening. She looks at Beca curiously. Then she smiles, beautiful and perfect. Beca feels it in her chest like a ray of light. She thinks she falls in love all over again.

“When this song came out, I thought of you,” Emily says. “It was so bittersweet.”

“Anytime I hear All Time Low I think of you.”

Emily laughs at that. She lowers her head, her lips brushing Beca’s. “I won’t forget the good times,” she sings, her voice pretty and soft. Beca feels the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheek. “Bec?”

“Yeah,” Beca whispers, breath caught in her throat.

“I don’t want to take it slow anymore.”

Beca aches all over, but the good kind of ache. “Me neither.”

When Emily kisses her, her hair tickling Beca’s cheeks, her fingers dancing over Beca’s skin, Beca falls into the moment, into the unexpected, into the extraordinary.

She falls into love. Again. And again. And again.

~~

Emily has never thought there was a right way to fall in love.

Movies and books want you to believe, at least when you’re young, that there’s an order, a right way to do things. You crush on someone, go out, kiss, fall in love, have sex. There’s a timeline and an order.

Emily always assumed, from the time she learned what love was, that her relationships would be like that. She’d meet her Prince Charming and they’d kiss and fall in love. Everything else was something that took place behind the scenes.

Then she met Beca. Beca with her ripped jeans, her dark eyeliner, her fuck-off attitude. She kissed Beca on her bedroom floor and decided right then and there to take a hammer to that perfect stained glass picture in her head and shatter it.

Emily had had expectations, but they had all vanished the second Beca Mitchell casually flirted with her, looked at Emily like she very much knew that Emily wanted her. So Emily decided she didn’t care about expectations. If Beca knew Emily wanted her, then she wanted Beca Mitchell to turn to jelly on her bedroom floor.

So she had crawled on top of her, slid her fingers up Beca’s shirt, felt her soft skin. Beca had laughed, this cocky, happy chuckle, and Emily had loved it, loved the way she felt it in her whole body.

She settled on top of Beca, her hips pressing down, and Beca had squirmed, her breath catching, and Emily became possessed. She felt heat in her whole body when they made out, a wanting she’d never imagined. Her tongue was in Beca’s mouth and Beca’s fingers were trailing over her jean-clad thighs and it wasn’t _enough_.

She sat up and tugged her shirt off, loving the shock on Beca’s face, the way Beca’s cheeks pinked pleasantly.

“You like, really wanna do this?” Beca asked, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yeah,” Emily had said, surprised by the confidence in her voice. “If you want to.”

Beca had just looked at her, shocked expression turning impressed. Then she reached up and took her own shirt off, tossing it on top of Emily’s, so Emily unbuttoned her pants and Beca tugged at her jeans, her underwear, and then --

That was as far as Emily knew. She didn’t know what came next. All she knew was there was supposed to be love at this point, but there was no love in that room. Not yet. It was just two curious teenagers, bored by homework, distracted by possibility.

Then Beca touched her, and Emily knew. She didn’t know what came next, and then, suddenly, she did. The hype, the big deal. This is what all that was about?

In Health when they warned about teen pregnancy and STDs and the dangers of sex, it was all overplayed, Emily thought, because the true risk was that maybe you could get lost in this feeling, let it overtake you until you couldn’t breathe.

Emily thought maybe that’s why there’s supposed to be a buildup - to prepare you. All at once, it was so _much_ , so intoxicating and overwhelming. Emily could feel herself turning obsessive with every second Beca touched her. It wasn’t just the feeling in her body, the satisfaction and wanting and heat. It was Beca. Her warm skin against Emily’s, the way her eyes roved over Emily’s face, looking for signs of good and bad and maybe just looking. Maybe she didn’t love Beca and maybe Beca didn’t love her, but she loved to look at Beca looking at her, like Emily was so surprising and so beautiful and so interesting.

Maybe there wasn’t love between them just yet, but God, if Emily didn’t love what they did that day, how Beca had made her feel.

Years later, in Emily’s bed in Berkeley, Emily thinks back on that day and loves it all over again. She had never had regrets about her first time, had never wanted it to be with someone she else, because in the end, she had fallen in love with Beca, and maybe part of that falling was because of how Beca looked at her when she touched her, how Beca made her feel when they were skin-close.

Emily had been just sixteen and she’d learned how sex could tear a person apart just to sew them back together. Now, she learns how sex can fill a person with so much that they’re overflowing with it. She learns that the buildup, no matter how slow, or how long, or how full of love it is, doesn’t prepare you for anything. That overwhelming intoxication is gonna take over you anyway, gonna leave you panting and obsessive no matter what.

Love is just the gentle touches, the nose brushes, the kisses on the jaw. It’s the soft hum in your ear and the _is this okay_ and steady eye contact. It’s the silent truth, the unspoken _I’m here_.

Or maybe it’s just Beca. Maybe, it’s just them.

//

Emily graduates on a foggy Saturday morning.

Her ceremony is just like all the others, with talk of the future, and community, and home. She sits, like she always has, in her cap and gown, waiting for them to call her name.

She walks across the stage, smiles when she gets her diploma, throws her cap in the air when it’s time.

After, she pushes through the crowd to find her mom and Beca, and she can’t help but think of her high school graduation. She hadn’t seen Beca all morning, but she’d reasoned she would catch up with her later when it was time to take pictures.

But Beca hadn’t been there, hadn’t wanted to immortalize their achievements on camera, hadn’t wanted to think of the future and what came next.

Emily had put on a brave face, smiling for the camera as she stood with her other friends, her family, even a few teachers. Beca had always been flaky, here-and-then-gone with no warning, but this was important, wasn’t it? This wasn’t something you missed.

She looked at her phone, saw the lack of notifications and messages, and felt herself nearly drowning in disappointment and _worry_.

How many more times would Emily be left wondering where Beca had gone off to? As if Emily didn’t know she was doing something unnecessarily stupid - shoplifting, getting high, driving too fast down the highway like she was indestructible, like coming back to Emily didn’t even _matter_. Like being there for Emily didn’t even matter.

Like Emily didn’t even matter.

For one second, Emily’s heart-wrenches, and she takes a deep breath as an old anxiety grips her - and then it’s gone - and then she’s fine - and then there’s Beca, right there, with her hands in her jean pockets, her eyes scanning the crowd for Emily.

Emily laughs, this bubbly, giddy thing, as her mom says something to Beca and Beca frowns, looking supremely uncomfortable as she responds. Her eyes land on Emily, scanning a little to the left before doing a double take. Then, Beca smiles, small, but happy, as Emily makes her way closer.

Her mom screeches, scoops her up in a hug. It’s the same every time, except not this time, because this time there’s Beca smiling at her when her mom lets go.

Beca tugs on Emily’s robe, awkward and perfect. “Look at you,” she says. “All graduated.”

“Again,” Emily laughs. “Piece of cake.”

Beca rolls her eyes and Emily wants to kiss her, but her mom is right there and she’s not sure it matters how long they’ve known each other, or that she’s moving in with Beca in LA in two weeks, or that her mom caught them making out more than once when they were kids. Emily’s always gonna feel weird kissing in front of her mom.

So she hugs Beca instead, wrapping her arms around Beca’s neck. Beca’s nose settles at her collarbone, hands clasping around Emily’s middle. She smells like Beca, and that’s maybe what Emily loves the most.

“Thanks for coming,” Emily says into her hair.

Beca squeezes her tighter. “I wouldn’t miss it.” It sounds like a promise for the future and Emily closes her eyes, breathing deep.

She’s grateful that it doesn’t matter how far gone some things get. Maybe some things, some _people_ , are always meant to come back.

~~

Beca knew what was going to happen when Emily looked at her.

Everybody had looked at Beca that way at one time -- disappointed, sad, angry. So when Emily looked at her like that, so unlike how Emily usually looked at her, Beca knew.

Emily was saying goodbye.

“Where were you?”

“Uh.” Beca held up the brown bag in her hand. “McDonalds?”

“Not _now_ , Bec. At graduation. Why didn’t you come? Where were you?”

Beca frowned, avoiding Emily’s eyes. “Nowhere. I just went for a drive. It’s dumb anyway.”

“It’s not dumb.” Emily gave her a look, hurt and upset. Beca felt it deep in her body. “You were supposed to be there.”

“Well, I wasn’t, I dunno.”

Emily looked away, tears in her eyes. They stood there in silence for a long time, but Beca didn’t know what to say. The thought of going to graduation, of everyone saying goodbye and pretending they were excited about it, she wasn’t for that. So she’d gone away for a bit, just to clear her head.

Then she came back to find Emily just… sitting on her porch steps. She didn’t know for how long, but she was kind of afraid to ask. Graduation had been eight hours ago.

“I can’t do this, Beca.”

Beca felt it like a punch to the gut, but she pushed it down because maybe she was wrong. This was Emily. Emily wouldn’t… Emily loved her. “Can’t do what?”

“ _This._ You and me. It hurts too much.”

“Oh.”

“I know it’s hard to think about what comes next, but we have to. _I_ have to. I have to move on, Bec, I can’t keep up with you.” Emily shook her head, the tears flowing freely now. Beca hated them, would do anything to make them stop, but she felt frozen. “The drinking and the smoking. The shoplifting, the drugs, the reckless driving. You’re going down a road that’s gonna end in trouble and it’s gonna hurt too much for both of us when you get there.”

Beca’s body felt heavy. She felt numb. Emily was on her doorstep, she was crying, she was saying goodbye. Beca wanted to do _something_. She couldn’t move.

She shrugged weakly. “So this is just… it?”

“I don’t want it to be, but I don’t get what’s going on with you and you never tell me. I don’t wanna be left waiting anymore. For how long? It’s been almost two years and, just... we’re not sixteen anymore. We’re eighteen, we’re adults and we’re growing up. I don’t want to spend my whole life wondering if you’re gonna be here.”

That hurt. Beca folded her arms around her stomach, squeezing. “I’m just… trying to figure shit out. It’s not easy for me like it is for you.”

“It’s not easy for me.” Emily sniffled, wiping under her eyes. “And I know it’s not easy for you. But you have to let me help you and you have to stop shutting me out. I hate it when you disappear and don’t tell me. I can’t stand it. I’m terrified you’re going to do something stupid and I’m just gonna be left here wondering what happened.”

“I can’t just… you don’t _get it._ You think you can just fix me but you can’t.” Beca kicked out at the ground angrily. “I’m not your project that you can make all pretty and get an A on, okay?”

Emily’s face twisted. “Is that how you think of me?” Beca shrugged and Emily stared. “Fine,” she said after a moment. She cleared her throat. “Then maybe you’re right, maybe this is it. I’m leaving after summer anyway, so maybe it’s just time.”

“Okay.” Beca thinned her lips, feeling anger bubble up in her, but she didn’t want to yell. She wouldn’t yell. Not when Emily was already crying.

Emily just looked at her. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Okay. You’re right. You, like, deserve way better anyway. Sorry that I wasn’t enough.”

“You could be,” Emily says quietly, her voice pleading.

Beca looked away, shrugging. She could feel Emily staring at her for a long moment. So long it didn’t feel real. Then Emily sighed. She took the few steps between them and brought her fingers up on the either side of Beca’s chin. “I love you and I’m sorry.” Beca could feel Emily’s tears on her cheeks when Emily kissed her. Sadness bubbled up in her, a dejected hollowness that would linger in her chest for weeks. She’d never had a kiss that tasted like goodbye before.

Then Emily released her chin and gave her a last look. People had said goodbye, but they’d never given her a look like that when they were doing it. Heartbroken and tender and full of love.

But nobody else had ever looked at her like Emily had, and nobody ever would.

//

Beca sees her across the field, a clear figure against the backdrop of fog and summer humidity. She looks like the rest of them, wearing her cap and gown, but Beca could recognize that laugh in any crowd, a glimpse into forever that overlaps into a blur of emotion in her chest.

Emily’s mom is saying something to her, but Beca doesn’t hear it. She sees Emily and it makes everything stop. Her heart skips, she stops breathing. Emily is gorgeous, beautiful in her happiness, and Beca’s brain time-skips, landing on their junior prom, when Beca had been slouching in Emily’s foyer, waiting, and there Emily had appeared, turning the corner, still rushing to get ready as she fastened her earring while she walked. Beca had suddenly felt light-headed and she’d leaned against the front door for support.

Emily had frozen, seeing her there, but she grinned as Beca looked at her. “What?” Emily looked like she knew exactly what.

Beca’s mouth had gone dry because she thought Emily would be made up in some fluffy dress and fancy hair, but…

“You’re wearing a _suit_?”

Emily raised her eyebrows, looking down at herself then back up at Beca. “Yeah. It’s cool, isn’t it?”

“You… why didn’t you tell me? _I_ would’ve worn a suit.” Beca had scoffed, looking down at her pale blue dress.

“I did? I said _I’m gonna wear a suit_ when you asked what you should wear?”

“I thought you were kidding!”

Emily had shrugged. “Well, that’s not my problem. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Beca couldn’t stop staring. Partly because she was shocked. their parents and friends knew they were dating, but the school? No _way_.

But mostly, she stared because Emily was… _hot_.

“I… You… Kay. Just wow.”

Emily had laughed, so cute that Beca felt it in her chest. It drove her crazy. She had stepped forward and grabbed Emily by her tie, the same pale blue as Beca’s dress. Damn her…

She gave a tug, pulling Emily down to her height, and went to press their lips together -- only to be interrupted by Emily’s mom coming down the stairs. Beca had jumped back, embarrassed, and Emily had laughed.

“I’m all yours after the dance,” she’d whispered lowly and Beca had felt the words down to her core.

She had never wanted to kiss Emily so bad, but seeing Emily now, looking the way she did as she made her way toward them through the crowd of graduates and their families, Beca thought that moment might have found its match.

Emily’s radiant, her eyes crinkly as she smiles at Beca. Beca thinks if she sees that smile for the rest of her life, then things could never be that bad. Everything would be okay. The thought makes her blush, warm from the inside out, but she’s not embarrassed or scared by it. Emily had been an inevitability since Beca had seen her across that desert crowd, a ghost from the past come to life.

She’d made a mistake all those years ago, letting Emily walk away, but maybe they’d needed time and space to sort themselves out, Beca especially. She’s just thankful she gets a second chance.

“Thanks for coming,” Emily says into Beca’s hair as they hug, and Beca wishes she could take back the past, take back the times she didn’t show up, but she can’t.

She can only go forward.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she promises. “I love you.”

She squeezes Emily tight, wanting to put all her love into the hug and not wanting to let go.

“I love you, too,” Emily chirps. “You’re staying with me tonight, right?”

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

She means it in so many ways, more than Emily could possibly know. Beca had always wanted to stay.

When Emily had almost kissed her on her living floor, had asked Beca for a second chance, had wanted to try again, Beca had known, from that moment on, that she would never leave Emily at all.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading you guys! hmu as always at emilyjunk.tumblr.com


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